I’m in Knowledge Management. Here’s why I sometimes feel like Mary Poppins.
“Knowledge Management” is a term (and profession) fraught with complexity, ambiguity, and jargon. While I don’t have any official, academic training in KM, my job title is literally Head of Knowledge Management — and I often have to explain what exactly that means. In devising that explanation, I came to realize that my role is very similar to that of everyone’s favorite fictional nanny, Mary Poppins. How, you ask? Read on…
1) Our job descriptions
They’re complicated, all-encompassing, and understood differently by different people. I’m fortunate to have been able to define my (and Knowledge Management’s role) within my organization, but my job description is nothing if not ambitious. Mary Poppins, of course, was variously requested to “mold the breed,” “play games,” “give commands,” and “never smell of barley water.” And I, as a KM practitioner, am responsible for everything from “capturing and collating institutional expertise” to “pursuing funding opportunities,” from “building staff capacity” to “evaluating relevant dissemination channels.”
Don’t get me wrong; I love the challenge and variety of my work. But a big part of what I do is managing expectations. Although we KMers are “practically perfect in every way,” we do have our limits. We can’t have a one-size-fits-all approach, nor can we ignore the very real—and sometimes very complicated—personalities, relationships, and politics that come with working for and with other human beings. It requires empathy; we need to listen to what they say they want and then deliver what we know they need, drawing upon our unique set of skills (many of which are still not enumerated in our job descriptions). Mary Poppins excels at this… and Knowledge Management practitioners should, too.
2) Our bag of tricks
KM practitioners have—while perhaps not as bottomless as Mary’s satchel—an endless array of concepts and tools at our disposal. But here’s the thing: In order for my work to truly have an impact, everyone needs to internalize some aspects of KM as a part of their own job. My goal, like Mary’s, is to give my organization the tools and wherewithal to put their house in order; if I’m successful, they’ll be better connected to one another, undertand what they value, and know how to tidy up their own nursery.
I often think that if I’m really doing my job properly, someday I’ll be able to pull a Poppins and say: “My services are no longer needed here.” The things I do—shaping organizational learning structures, defining information architectures, and designing strategic knowledge processes—would be absorbed by leaders throughout my organization and become essential to everyone’s work. Do I actually think that’s going to happen? Not. A. Chance. But Knowledge Management (and its vast toolkit) should be viewed as neither miraculous nor proprietary; KM initiatives only truly work if they’re distributed and acknowledged as essential at all levels of an organization.
3) Our status as outsiders
For all of my work in collaborating and communicating with other staff in my organization, I often feel like the odd person out. Just as Mary Poppins will never really be friends with Cook and Ellen, or belong to the same social class as the Bankses, I’m often treated with a strange mixture of skepticism and awe that sets me apart from my peers. I view things through a different lens than many of my co-workers and organizational leaders; Knowledge Management gives us a singular way of looking at the world. Adding to this, organizations like mine (cultural heritage non-profits) don’t often have KM positions—or even someone doing KM work under a different name. It’s a field that is fertile for Knowledge Management ideas, but it can be lonely.
…so what?
In my attempts to define my own role and to make connections with other practitioners, I can see that KM is nothing if not a dynamic and people-focused discipline. We may not all have dysfunctional (organizational) families, but we all can certainly benefit from conversations about shared struggles and successes, challenges and solutions. If you’re an academic, reach out to someone doing work “on the ground” — and vice versa. Our families will thank us.
This article originally appeared in the ASIS&T SIG-KM newsletter, Issue 01.